Harry Potter & the Little Sexy Bomb
by Erbanana
Summary: My name's Harry and I'm a girl. I leave on the train and I'm sorted to Slytherin. Later, there are misdeeds afoot and Slytherin helps. Fem!Harry due to time-travel and Voldemort.
1. Chapter 1 & The Genderqueer Potter

I decided to go to Hogwarts on my twelfth birthday!

I wrote to the Headmaster of my current school, but a letter came for me from another headmaster. He was called Dumbledore.

Prince William is the name of my owl. He flew all the way in one night!

When he returned, he held a bundle of notes gripped in his tiny claws, and he had a dead mouse dangling from its beak. When he ate his mouse, he slurped the tail down like it was spaghetti.

The pages were written by Professor McGonagall. They read as followed:

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_Welcome to Hogwarts. Because your birthday is in September, you are twelve years old, but not a year older than who we require to help fight the Dark Lord Voldemort._

_Please leave via Platform Three and Three-Quarters immediately to come to Hogwarts and be sorted with your friends._

_Enclosed is a list of supplies you need to buy near the Gringotts bank, which is on the map. It's in the City of London._

_Signed by_

_Professor McGonagall._

I was thrilled and delighted! They hadn't even checked to see if I was a girl or a boy. I am a girl, but I was born into a boy's body that Aunt and Uncle named Harry Potter when they adopted me.

My secret name is "Harry" not Harriet, as that sounds too old. My best friend is a snake that lives under the stairs with me. She is made from a red feather duster.

My Aunt and Uncle are paranoid about witches and demons. They are devout Satanists and help poor people into Hell and want rich people to populate Earth all over. I was brought up as a true Satanist.

I told my Aunt and Uncle that I would rid Hogwarts of all its demons and former angels. They patted me on the head.

"Well done, Harry," they said. "Satan will love you when you die and go to Hell forever."

I'm so pleased. It's also my twelfth birthday. Aunt and Uncle got me many presents, like a wooden stake called Mrs Pointy, and garlic bulbs and a large Satanic cross that I can hang above my bed, and a silver sacrificial knife with an oak handle.

When I go to Hogwarts, I can take everything with me in an IKEA wardrobe made of white satin and aluminium poles, and I can push it around on its little white wheels. It contains my whole wardrobe, like my black pointy hooded robe and my white pointy hooded robe and my red hooded robe. I like the colour red best.

I do hope I get into Gryffindor!

*/*/*

It was my turn to drive. Uncle Vernon taught me at the age of seven in case we had to escape our neighbourhood due to the Gates of Hell opening early.

All our rituals are completed in private in case they go wrong.

We had to go to Gringotts which is behind a pub on an expensive London High Street. Uncle Vernon swore when we had to fill in my Gringotts Cash Card.

We all arrived at the pub. Aunt and Uncle got out and had a Ploughman's for lunch. My special needs cousin Dudley had crisps. He cries all the time. He's special needs as my mother Lily once set fire to his hair and face. She also went to a special needs school as she was a pyromaniac. She married my father, a pilot. She was working on his helicopter as an air hostess when they crashed due to lots of fog in Scotland. They both died, but I was in her tummy so I survived the crash when hospital workers cut me out in a caesarean.

I have to live with the fact that I survived, but my parents didn't. My Aunt and Uncle devoted themselves to Satan after I had to come and stay with them. I am thankful to them as they told me the truth, rather than claim I'm adopted from an orphanage.

I was very excited about Gringotts, but I asked the barmaid too soon. My Aunt and Uncle weren't through with their Ploughman's yet, and were a bit annoyed when we all had to head towards the back immediately. My cousin Dudley stole many bags of crisps and gave them to Aunt Petunia so she could keep them in her handbag.

We walked through a strange hole in a brick wall.

I'm not sure, but I think I hallucinated the rest.

Gringotts bank was full of strange green men, all very short. We went on a roller-coaster ride to a large room filled with gold coins and posh treasures. Dudley stuffed lots of it into a goblin's open sack.

Next Aunt and Uncle complained about the smell. We had to buy many strange herbs and spices and plant roots for my potion course. I'm not sure I want to go now. I hate cooking.

By the way, I do all the housework at home because I'm really a girl. Dudley and Uncle don't do anything because only I deserve Aunt's attention. She's taught me lots about cleaning and scrubbing and mending clothes. I can now do DIY and gardening, but I burn things in pans. Aunt orders lots of takeaways, because it was my Mum Lily that was taught to cook by Gran. Aunt Petunia preferred making lots of vegetables in the garden. She loves flower arranging, and knitting.

The goblins took my cash card and didn't scan it. They waved twigs around, lights shot out of the ends, and my cash card spun in mid-air. They gave it back to Uncle, who pocketed it.

Next we went so that I could get a twig. Mr Ollivander had loads and loads stacked upon all his shelves. He called me The Boy Who Had Lived. I corrected him and told him:

"I'm the Girl, Mr Ollivander. My name is Harry, which is a shortened form of Harriet."

Uncle said, "She always says that. We had to adopt her as a boy due to her strange deformed sex organs."

Ollivander said, "Harry is supposed to be a boy!"

Uncle said, "No. All her sex organs were mangled when she was given to us. The local hospital crowned her a girl. We were relieved. We already had a boy."

"Yes," said Aunt. "My sister and my brother-in-law had to disguise her as a boy to protect her from a magic spell."

I gasped. We weren't supposed to mention _me_ nor magic, and to keep its wicked existence secret and to keep the public safe from harm.

Ollivander gave me a wand. It is twelve inches by quarter-of-an-inch, rose-coloured and swishy. It's suitably girly enough for me. We went through loads before I could have a girly one. It's a cylinder that tapers to a point.

I swished my wand and sparks shot out of the end.

Dudley waved. He was still here. So was Aunt and Uncle and Ollivander.

Dudley ate some crisps. That was the last thing he did as he disappeared after I swished my wand. Aunt screamed and Uncle shouted.

Ollivander swung his wand. Dudley came back wearing a jacket that was too small for him, and too girly. As he took it off, Ollivander explained it was made from magic.

It was perfect! It was made of leather and rose-coloured. I wore it immediately. It smelled like nice sweat, and had a silver zip, and an inside pocket. I put my wand in the inside pocket which was inside the left sleeve.

"Thank you, Mr Ollivander!" I cried and rushed to hug him.

We paid for my wand with my cash card and we left for a book store.

We paid for all my books and other things like robes.

I have five new robes to last me each week.

Because Aunt and Uncle are tight with money, each robe is slightly bigger than the last, so at least one could all fit me all year round in case I grew.

I have new magical boxer shorts! I have eight pairs, seven are black and the eighth is pink and lacy. I've got new socks and shoes and fluffy slippers.

I've got a new coat. It looks like a robe, but I prefer my new rose-coloured leather jacket with the silver zip. I desperately wanted to get into Gryffindor, so I bought some gold nail polish and painted over the zip. Now I can't get my jacket off as the nail polish stuck stiff.

I released my wand from its secret pocket. People laughed at me as I don't know a single spell to unstick my zip. I can't get it off and I'll have to smell instead of having a shower every day for a year. It'll be too small and I'll have to ask Ollivander to make me a new one next time.

We were in Knockturn Alley as Uncle needed a pee against a wall and we couldn't find a toilet in time.

I met a silver-haired teenager called Draco Malfoy. He was pretty.

"Hello, Mr Draco's dad," I said. "My name is Harry. It's short for Harriet."

"She always says that," said Uncle, zipping up his jeans.

Mr Malfoy shook his wand at Uncle. Uncle disappeared. Aunt screamed and Dudley ate a crisp in shock.

I shook my wand and sparks shot out. "Mr Malfoy's dad," I cried. "Bring him back. He's my Uncle and I love him dearly."

Mr Malfoy said bad words to me. I know from his tone of voice. He called us Muggles and mudbloods and other horrible things, like Muggle-born worms.

Draco sneered, but prettily. I wanted to kiss him, but I was too scared in front of his dad, who was swearing violently.

Luckily, Mrs Malfoy showed up. Draco called her Mum.

"I haven't got a mum," I said. "I have an Uncle and an Aunt and a cousin who eats crisps."

"I've got a mum and a dad and an aunt," said Draco. "They're all purebloods."

I swished my wand, hoping that Uncle would return.

Dudley was better and ran back to Diagon Alley. I knew he'd told someone like Ollivander as my rose-coloured leather jacket shrunk on me and suddenly restored to size.

I could breathe again. Draco was very pretty and so was his mummy. I wanted to kiss them both.

Mr Malfoy was very ugly. He had a screwed-up face due to rage and anger. He shouted at us, that we didn't belong here.

"It's a very smelly alleyway," I shouted. "You may belong here, Mr Malfoy, but I belong in posher avenues. So there!"

He wilted under my insult. "I live in a mansion!" he retorted. "But my family bought this alley centuries ago! You do not belong here!"

"Bring back my uncle," I demanded. "You have no rights! I'm placing you under citizen arrest. Aunt, grabs his arms and push him to the floor."

Aunt charged at him, but Mr Malfoy dodged. Aunt fell over Draco, and they ended up in a heap on the floor.

Mrs Malfoy helped them up. "What are you thinking of, Harry's Aunt?" she asked.

Dudley ran over, dragging Mr Ollivander by the arm. "There they are!" he said.

Mr Ollivander looked shocked, but drew back his wand. Mr Malfoy went flying. Whoosh! He flew through the air. Out of a portal, Uncle appeared, and went splat onto the ground.

Me and Dudley ran over and hugged him. "Are you all right, Uncle?" we asked, kissing him better.

"I'm okay," said Uncle Vernon. "Where's my wife?"

"Mum is with Mrs Malfoy," said Dudley. "Why can't I go to Hogwarts too? Why does it have to be only Harriet?"

"Harriet is a girl," explained Aunt. "She has to learn to not become a witch like her mother. She has to purge the school of magic. It's a big task, but she wants to do it. She wants to join the fight against dark magic and stop raising demons to do our bidding."

"Magic's okay," said Draco. "I'm born with it."

*/*/*

We left Knockturn Alley after making friends with Draco and Narcissa Malfoy and Dudley and Ollivander and Uncle, who is all right.

Me and Aunt hung back, fighting our terrible domestication instincts. They were sexist and wanted us to clean up the fight's mess and Uncle's pee.

I swished my wand and we were set free!

"See, Aunt," I said. "My magic helped us today."

"Magic never helps," advised my Aunt. "It doesn't exist."


	2. Chapter 2 & The Train Ride

Today was going to be the best day of my life. I was going on a train ride!

We drove to Platform Three and Three-Quarters. My IKEA wardrobe was folded away in the back, containing all my clothes.

It contained:

Eight pairs of boxer shorts, seven pairs of socks, two shoes, two slippers, and eight brand new robes, a brand new coat-robe, a rose-coloured leather jacket, three warm vests, a jumper, and a pair of glasses. I'm short-sighted.

I also have a scar across my forehead, given to me by the midwife that did my mum's caesarean operation after the helicopter crashed.

The scalpel sliced through her womb and cut me on the forehead. The scar today looks like a wavy zigzag line.

I was wearing my very best make-up. To match my favourite gold nail polish, I was wearing the family locket round my neck, and another necklace with red rubies (that we found in the Potter's Gringotts vault), and a ruby ring, and a tiara, and gold earrings, and a nose stud, and a lip piercing that I got last week, and a false tattoo on my upper right arm. It looked like a lion.

And I was wearing a short little tee with a V-neck in my nude flesh colour. And I had a black string vest that matched my eyelashes on top. I wore a tight skirt, belted with more little teeny-weeny rubies.

I looked the bomb, like a little sexy bomb.

I wanted to meet Draco harder than I ever wanted before in my life. He was so handsome, that when I met him again I wanted to faint at his feet.

And on my feet I was wearing teeny-weeny red kitten heels with black fishnet tights.

Best of all, I was wearing my contacts. I was born with horrible green eyes like a witch's cat, and I had my best ruby-red contact lenses in, so everything in my outfit matched my hair and skin colour the best. I couldn't look any better or dreamier.

When I staggered out of the car under the weight of my IKEA wardrobe, which I reassembled in the station's car park, I had forgotten something.

My sixth sense kicked in, and I asked Dudley, "What have I forgotten now? I'd forget my own head with you."

Dudley opened the window and handed out my make-up bag and wash-bag. He blew me a goodbye kiss and told me he'd miss me very much.

I thanked him, and thanked my Aunt and Uncle for all the good times.

We all cried together in the car park, but I was twelve and grown-up now and I had to leave to purge the school of all evil magic because that was my destiny.

*/*/*

I ran through the barrier at Platform Three and Three-Quarters, pushing my IKEA wardrobe ahead of me. My school owl Prince William flew down from the sky and alighted on my head. His claws raked my scalp.

"That's a nice owl," said a bushy-haired girl. She was fair-skinned with brown hair and brown eyes. She wore an old hoodie and jeans and boots.

"It flew down the chimney one day," I lied. "My cousin Dudley tamed it 'cos he thought it belonged to Father Christmas."

"Oh," she said. "My name's Hermione. What's yours?"

"My name's Harriet, but everyone calls me Harry."

"I wouldn't call you Harry," she said.

Boy, she must be old-fashioned. I pushed my IKEA wardrobe ahead, looking for someone more modern and with it.

Hermione followed me, pulling her lousy old trunk, which looked a bit like World War Two. Bloody hell, it was ancient.

I next ran into all these red-heads. They were called Ron and Ginny and Percy and Charlie and Mrs Weasley. They looked OK.

"What the hell is that?" said Mrs Weasley, staring past me in horror.

"That's Hermione," I said. "She's evacuating from the second World War."

"Poor girl," she said. "She must be time-travelling."

"I'm not," snapped Hermione. "But I'm following a fashion victim. I'm looking for witches, not bitches."

"I'm going to be a witch one day," chirruped Ginny. She looked young.

"Everyone on the train!" ordered Mrs Weasley. "Ron, where's your jumper?"

"It's in my trunk, mum!" he yelled. He had a lovely voice.

"Who are you?" asked Charlie to me.

"I'm sometimes called Harriet," I said.

"What's your last name?" he asked. "Everyone at Hogwarts is called by their last name by the teachers."

"I'm called Harry Dursley," I said. Charlie was so pleased, he helped me onto the train.

*/*/*

By the way, the Potters are famous. Uncle and Aunt never told me mum married a millionaire. I almost fainted when I saw the bank account balance. It was a one followed by seven zeros! The Potters were rolling in it, and raking it in by the tens of thousands every second from the magical world's stock market.

That's why I'm wearing a tiara and a ruby necklace and the family locket, and the picture inside moves like a digital picture frame, not like a phone. It won't zoom, and only seven seconds loop.

My gold earrings come from America. We bought them in Boutique Avenue.

My tiara and belt are both made from gold-plated platinum.

Uncle and Aunt exchanged some of the Potter's vault treasures into cash at an antique auction. They're really rich now and they deserve it. They're no longer tight with money. Dudley can go to a rich kid's school, but I still am destined to rid Hogwarts of all evil.

I'm really famous, because of my dad. He could fly, not just a helicopter, but on a pegasus and a broomstick. His best friend was a werewolf and a black dog. He must have been lonely before he met my mum. She made good luck charms, which she must have been wearing when she worked as an air hostess after she left school.

I told Ron and Hermione everything. Draco Malfoy walked past our seats and I went into a dizzy-tizzy spell.

Ron gaped at me. "It didn't happen like that," he cried. "You-Know-Who –"

My mum, I think.

"– tried to kill you as a baby –"

Not my mum. Someone else who must be evil.

"– but his killing spell deflected and hit himself. He died, and you killed him."

"That sounds like my mum talking," I said. "Aunt recorded her on the phone. My mum tried to kill people next door once by blowing them up with her cooking skills."

"I blew up the car once," said Hermione. "Then the TV exploded, but I'm not evil. It was all an accident."

"You're a mudblood," called Draco. He stood near our seats.

All of us took up the entire train length. The posh seats were contained within first class compartments, but my IKEA wardrobe wouldn't fit in the overhanging wire baskets, so we were all in third class. I couldn't even buy my way into second class as the sweet trolley lady couldn't exchange my rubies or gold. She only had five knuts as change.

"You're dirty, impure mudbloods," he said again, waiting for us to reply.

"I love it when you talk dirty, Draco," I said, blushing.

When Draco had gone, I whispered to the others, "I want to kiss him one day. He's so hot."

"It's his silver hair," said Hermione. "I think he's descended from pixies."

Ron stared at us. "Why's it gone so girly, Harry Potter?"

"'Cos I'm a girl, really," I said to Ron. "They had to disguise me as a boy when I was a baby. That's why I've got nothing there," I said, pointing at my crutch.

Ron rapped us on the knuckles with his wand. "You must never let anyone call you a mudblood," he demanded. "That's an insult to your families and their honour."

Ron called his brother via his mobile phone. It didn't have chat or text. It had hands on it like a clock, and he tapped it at two o' clock. Charlie's head and shoulder grew out of the face.

"Hello, Ron," he said, waving at him. "Why aren't you in a first class compartment?"

"I'm stuck in here with two girls, and one's dressed up as Harry Potter and drawn a scar on her face."

"I'm not dressed as Harry Potter," I said to the Weasleys. "My name's Harry, and I have a tattoo of a lion. He hasn't even seen it yet. I won't be friends with you, and your You-Know-Who."

What I wanted to say was: Don't talk about the scar! That wasn't part of my decisions. I decided to get this tattoo and my lip piecing and my nose stud and my fishnets and gold nail polish. I never had anything in my life like this because my family were so poor, I had to live in a room under the stairs, and my cousin Dudley had to sleep in bunk beds with his parents in a double mattress below. Our kitchen before we discovered the Potter's bank account was tiny. Me and Aunt had to cook with only a microwave and a kettle. We survived on take-aways. Aunt had to hire me out as a gardener to the neighbours so we had food. My cousin Dudley has special needs – he was disfigured by my birth mum. Uncle once had his own business, and people thought he'd gone mad when he first saw his first demon. We were ruined by demons when I was younger. We've always wanted to leave, but we were cursed by this witch called Mrs Figg to always live in this tiny, tiny house, and work for these evil neighbours. Sometimes I went overnight without food like Aunt, so we could feed Uncle and Dudley. Their needs came first. I've always wanted to wear a leather jacket, but we couldn't afford it. Mr Ollivander was the first adult friend who gave me a present. It's my rose-coloured jacket, but Ron, you would never understand being poor!

What I really said was: "Hermione, let's leave these boys alone, and go off and do our hair in the toilets. I've got some highlights in my pocket. Do you want purple or pink?"

"Pink," she said. "Where did you get your gold nail polish from?"

*/*/*

Me and Hermione are best friends now. She even helped me push my IKEA wardrobe into a toilet stall, so we could swap robes, and try on bras.

She admired my boxer shorts. I may be girly, but I've still got a boyish side.

At the hospital, they checked up on me now and then. Apparently, I haven't got enough to get married with, as it all got mangled down there in an accident when I was four.

It's really embarrassing, but I have to pee into a plastic bag, and it hangs off my hipbone under my clothes.

Hermione was really sympathetic. She wasn't embarrassed at all when I had to empty the bag. Both her parents are doctors and dentists. She must've grown up with nursing instincts.

Hermione and me painted our toenails ruby red and I redid her hair in French plait. We chased each other out the bathroom and into Ron. I'm also a very good pickpocket, so I stole two knuts from him, and a key. It was the key to his clothes trunk. I snuck back to his seat, and opened it without anyone noticing. I stole a bright mauve jumper, which I shoved under my robe, and some more potion ingredients in jars that did not smell.

When I got back to the bathroom, Hermione was waiting for me. I shoved the stolen jumper into my IKEA wardrobe, and resorted the shelves. Some piles had knocked into each other due to the sway of the train. My magical tights had unravelled and almost choked Hermione when she looked in.

"What a horrible colour," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I've always wanted to cut it up."

"Let's use my hairdressing scissors," suggested Hermione.

"Yes," I said. "We can flush it down the toilet so no one knows."

"I've got a better idea," said Hermione, tearing into the mauve jumper with her hair scissors. "Let's throw it out the window onto a sheep."


	3. Chapter 3 & Two Hermiones, One Granger

One mauve jumper later, and a very pleased sheep outside, me and Hermione felt sleepy. All the train seats were taken up, and we didn't feel like sleeping in the toilets.

I spread out my picnic blanket on the floor in a corridor, and we sat down and fed each other crisps. I already missed Dudley.

Just then, Ron showed up with Charlie and his brother Percy the prefect.

"You're not supposed to sit here," said Percy. "Are you really Harry Potter?"

"My name is Harry," I said, adjusted my tiara in my hair. Why had no one mentioned my jewellery? I was covered in gold and rubies. I looked banging, like a little sexy bomb.

"Don't you like my tiara?" I asked Percy.

"Tiara or not," he said, "you can't sit in the corridor. People have to walk past and you're in the way. However, what a nice picnic basket, Harry."

"Yes," I said. "I got it from Boutique Avenue, like my earrings. They're American gold-plated platinum."

"Wow," said Hermione. "I can't believe your parents never told you that they were rich. They could have left you something in their will. Harry grew up poor," she explained to the Weasleys.

"I thought they were plastic," said Ron. "Dad collects tons of that stuff. Muggle stuff."

"They're posh," I said, tossing my hair from side to side. The earrings must have glittered, because they stared at me.

"You really look like Harry Potter," said Charlie. "He's the right age and everything."

"I don't know where the real Harry Potter is," said Percy. "Professor Dumbledore must have him already at Hogwarts. He'll be the first person to be sorted."

"I'll be Harry Two," I said. "I was Harry Two once at school, because of Harry Copeman. When we had sports day, I met Harry King and Harry Patel and Harry Brassneck, so I was Harry Five."

"I'm Hermione Two," confessed Hermione. "I met another Hermione earlier, and I had to brush my hair up to be just like her. I've always wanted a twin."

"I'll be your twin!" I said and hugged Hermione Two. "Let's be best friends!"

"Yes!" she said. "I've never had a best friend before. Let's go and meet the other Hermione."

She helped me push her trunk and my IKEA wardrobe down the aisle. Percy was kind and folded away my picnic blanket into my picnic basket, and flew it on top of my wardrobe with a flick of his wand.

"Bye bye, girls," he called. "Good luck with Hermione One!"

*/*/*

Hermione One was a bit of a bitch. Her full name was Hermione Granger.

My best friend Hermione Two was called Hermione Smith.

Hermione One was reading a book to some girls called Lavender and Parvati and Padma and a boy called Dean. Parvati and Padma were twins, real twins!

Another boy wandered in with us called Gregory. He was looking for Draco, but couldn't find him. He gave me a chocolate frog, which was a really brown frog. After she ribbited, I let her escape out the window. She jumped down into a hedge as the train speeded by.

it was nice and roomy in the compartment until someone needed the corridor, and I had to shove my IKEA wardrobe and Hermione Two's second world war trunk into their compartment.

"What do you think you're doing?" yelled Hermione One.

"Oof!" said Lavender, as the trunk caught her on the shin. It skidded in and trapped Parvati's foot next to the outer door.

Gregory was very brave and waved his wand. My IKEA wardrobe exploded!

All my underwear combusted!

"Oh no!" I cried. "They were new, so new!"

"Are you Potter?" asked Gregory.

"No," I said. "My name's Harry Dursley. Why did you do that?"

I fell to the floor, and stuffed whole clothing into my coat-robe, as much that had escaped the short blast.

"Harry's short for Harriet," explained Hermione Two, backing away from the fire.

"Rub the lightning scar off," said Padma or Parvati.

Hermione One looked up. "I don't know what you're wearing, but they won't let you into Hogwarts looking like that, Harri."

"My name's spelt H-A-R-R-Y, not girly with an i," I wanted to say, but I got very angry and said, "I wrote to Dumbledore personally, and he told me I could wear whatever the fuck I liked."

"Don't swear," said Lavender. "You sound like a sailor."

"You'll lose house points," said Gregory. "You're lucky you're not sorted yet."

"I want to be in Ravenclaw," said the twins.

"I heard Gryffindor's the best house," said Hermione.

"I want to be a Gryffindor, too," I said. I rolled up the sleeve of my very short tee. "I've got a lion tattoo."

"And gold jewellery with rubies and red shoes and gold nail polish," said Hermione Two. "She did my hair and nails in the toilet!"

"I want to be a hair dresser," I said. "What does everyone else want to be?"

"A witch," said Hermione One, rolling her eyes. "We're all going to _Hogwarts_, a school for witches and wizards."

"I want to make cauldrons," said Lavender.

"I may have to scrub one," I said, "if my fortunes don't change soon. I'm wearing _millions_, baby. It ain't plastic, it's real gold and platinum. I'm wearing the real, rocking deal."

Gregory smiled at me, but like I was an idiot. "Are you scared of chocolate frogs?"

"No," I said. "They deserve freedom. They're animals."

Gregory laughed at me, so did Hermione Two and Lavender.

"They're animated," said Lavender. "They're really made of chocolate."

Gregory left us alone, muttering about Draco and mudbloods.

"Chocolate's bad for our health," said Hermione Two. I'd forgotten her parents were doctors.

I've never tasted chocolate much, as that's a man's food. Dudley and Uncle love it, but me and Aunt mustn't get fat, so we had to calorie count round her friends, and pretend when we couldn't afford food, it was due to dieting.

I much preferred the taste of wine. When I worked for the neighbours, I used to pour a little from their wine cellar into an empty pill bottle, and stash it under my mattress under the stairs so I wouldn't get caught. I don't think even Aunt knew I got a little tipsy every night.

I missed wine, especially sherry. Aunt's friends sometimes had garden parties, and invited her round, even though she worked as their cleaner. She brought back rich food once, including liquor chocolate cake.

I nibbled on the next chocolate frog Lavender unpeeled for me, after Hermione Two splattered it for me.

"Thanks, Lavender," I said. "Do you want me to do your hair?"

"OK," said Lavender. "I like it with silver highlights."

Hermione One rolled her eyes again. "I'm trapped with posh girly girls," she said.

She complained next about the smell of nail polish and nail polish remover.

"Well, sorry," I said, "I'm trying to remove the red from our toe nails, so we can have alternating red and gold for Gryffindor."

"Actually," said Hermione Two, "I like caring for people, and I might be in Hufflepuff."

Ron burst into the compartment. "There you are, Harry!" he shouted. "That lying sneak Malfoy broke into my trunk and stole my jumper!"

"What jumper?" I said. "I found a terrible jumper had been shoved into my wardrobe when I was pushing it down the corridor. Draco must have planted it on me to frame me."

"Wow," said Hermione Two. "We cut it up didn't we so it could fit a sheep."

"Malfoy must have hit you with a spell," said Hermione Granger. She opened her Charms textbook, and flipped through. "There must be something in here to cancel it."

"Gregory!" I called down the corridor. "Where's Draco?"

In my pocket, I fingered Ron's trunk key. It hadn't been worth rummaging through. Ron hadn't lied and he was poor just like I had been.

The key felt hot with guilt and shame. I still loved the thrill of kleptomania which is why I did it.

As Gregory Goyle charged into the compartment, I felt through his robe pockets and found more sweeties and another key.

When they were all busy and were ignoring me and my jewellery, I headed towards where Gregory had come from and opened his trunk. I stole everything glittery, which was mostly coins and cuff-links. I filled my pockets up with huge socks, and a wand-polishing kit.

I left the compartment trying not to grin, and feeling much better.

If only I had… a fence.

*/*/*

"No!" she cried. "I sell chocolate frogs."

"Underpriced," I said grimly. "C'mon Cho, hand them over."

Cho gave back the cuff-links.

Time slowed as Gregory charged up the aisle and snatched them out of mid-air.

"Those are mine," he growled, before he punched me.


	4. Chapter 4 & The Worst Sort Of My Life

I awoke in a boat, the side of my face splitting with pain.

The sides of the boat were wooden and tight. Gregory stood over me, sneering at something I couldn't see.

The bottom of the boat, to my questing fingers, felt like huge socks and smooth robes. A corner of a book, which pages fluttered, was wedged under my arse.

"Draco!" called Gregory. "The castle is huge!"

"We're not getting any closer," said Draco, "because the mudbloods go first, it seems."

"Vincent!" cried Gregory. "Look around for oars again!"

Vincent lumbered into view. He spotted me awake, staring at the skies.

"Your girlfriend's awake," he teased.

"Filthy little thief," growled Gregory. "What did you do with my wand-polisher?"

The girl in the next trunk replied, "Shoved it down my trousers, you bastard!"

"C'mon, give it back!"

I feigned a moan, and rolled my eyes back into my head. I recognised the girl's voice: it was Cho Chang.

When Vincent was standing above me, I lifted my wand and poked it into his knee. He yelped. My wand, twelve inches by quarter-of-an-inch, rose-coloured and swishy, bent.

"Don't do that!" snapped Vincent.

Why not? I thought. I'm da bomb, the little sexy bomb, soon to be of Hogwarts bomb.

Fear me, I thought, and accidentally adjusted my contacts with magic. Ruby light poured out of my eyes.

"Argh!" Vincent lumbered into the safe clutches of Draco.

"It's just magic," Draco sighed.

I sighed. My hero!

A wand swished into my above vision. "Hocus pocus!" cried Draco.

The ruby light changed to amber, gold, emerald, sapphire, dark blue, and amethyst, before changing to white diamond.

I couldn't see a thing, with all this light pouring from my eyes like headlamps.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I cried. "Make it stop!"

"No," said Draco. He withdrew his wand.

Finally, I sat up in the trunk. Gregory placed his shoe on my chest, and trod me back into the trunk. "Don't move," he sniggered.

"Yes," said Draco, sounding pleased. "We're in charge! Now shut up, and don't move."

His silvery, dulcet tones placated me.

Unfortunately, I did magic again.

*/*/*

"Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore. "Five points from Slytherin each!"

"Damn," muttered Draco. "You'll hear from Dad about this!"

"Curses!" I agreed. Slytherin might be the house I'm sorted into tonight.

The early-sorted trio turned to me and Cho.

"Stay out of Slytherin!" they said.

"Their families have been there for generations," said Cho. "Isn't that right, sir?"

"Doh!" said Dumbledore. "I'll forget my own head next. Ten points to Ravenclaw, for alerting us, Ms Chang."

"Thank you, sir!" She left us for Ravenclaw table.

Dumbledore gave me an enigmatic eyebrow raise. He stood centre stage in the Great Hall, and announced, "Let that be a lesson to you! Now, people, let the sorting begin."

Professor McGonagall, whose name was younger than she looked, placed a old floppy pointy thing on a milkmaid's stool. There was sideways rip in it.

The rip opened, the thing stood up on no legs, now with no creases, and began a clapping noise from inside of it.

"The Sorting Hat," whispered Draco.

"It sings a new song every year," said someone behind me.

Its pointedness reminded me of my wooden stake, Ms Pointy. It was in the remains of my IKEA wardrobe somewhere, hopefully Hermione Two had helped offload it.

_"Hear my rap from a brand new hat,_

_Happily spanking and new._

_Four hours to sort you into four new houses,_

_Delicately compressed into two._

_Slytherin calls for your ambitious balls,_

_Cunning and pureblood too._

_Ravenclaw needs some special reads,_

_Maths, reason and logic rules._

_Hufflepuff's enough for your working roughs,_

_Caring and meticulous, through-and-through._

_Gryffindor flies with a rolling ride,_

_Courageous, brave and true._

_Now I can sort you into houses and move you,_

_Through rhyme and rhythm I decide._

_So step up and prove it,_

_With rhythm and movement,_

_And get under my brim that's wide!"_

There was a round of applause from around the Great Hall.

"Abbott, Hannah!" cried McGonagall.

"Desist!" shouted Dumbledore, trying to smother the applause. "It takes all year for the Hat to think up a rhyme. He's getting on bit. Year Seven had to help him with that!"

"Hufflepuff!" cried the Hat.

"Next!" yelled McGonagall. "Bones, Susan!"

"Ravenclaw!"

They went down the list together, sorting students onto different tables.

Then I couldn't believe it! They had forgotten about me!

_Dursley, Harry _wasn't called. I fought my way through the crowd of newbies until I reached McGonagall's elbow.

I peered up at her.

Dumbledore caught sight of me, and winked. Maybe he was a perv, I thought, but decided against it.

I tugged on Professor McGonagall's sleeve. The next boy gasped when he saw my hideous scar, then gaped at the next girl.

"My name's Dursley," I said to her. "Harry Dursley. You've forgotten me."

She peered down her list as _Thingy, Thing_ was sorted.

"We're got two Harry's this year, but I don't have a Dursley."

"We've also got two Hermione's," I said. "I met both on the train before I was kidnapped."

_Granger, Hermione One _was now wearing the Sorting Hat.

My Hermione Two spotted me and grinned. All her top hair was gelled flat and sticking out in many dimensions. She smelt like strawberries, and had pink extensions in her braids.

McGonagall looked briefly horrified at a gigantic man stood at the back, with the remains of my IKEA wardrobe. No one else's luggage was visible.

"Do you have another last name?" McGonagall asked me. She looked worried, and even more horrified when she saw my scar.

I tweaked my tiara over it, and licked my ruby-lipsticked lips.

What's wrong, bitch? I wanted to say. Instead, I said: "Yes, Professor?"

Hermione Two popped up near my left shoulder. She should've joined in and said: "How sarcastic, bitch!" Instead she said: "I found your spare pee-pee sack after you left. It was hanging out of the window attached to Superman Sheep wearing a scrap of jumper!"

"Not now, Hermione," I said, letting my gold earrings dangle in protest for me.

"Quiet, Miss Smith!" said McGonagall. "We have two Harry's: Potter and Ronald."

"I'm called Harry Ronald!" said a small ginger newbie.

"…" said McGonagall, looking horrified again.

Yes, I thought. Ronald is a horrible name, but he looked quite small and sexy.

"It's my father's name," I admitted. "But I didn't know my parents."

"You'll be fine," reassured McGonagall. "Get back into line."

As me, Harry Dursley Potter, and Hermione Two Smith were close to each other in the alphabet, we decided to hang out with Harry Two Ronald.

Eventually, it was my turn.

All the House Tables looked full up. Newbie students were now sitting on top of Year Eight's laps. Two new Year Sevens were sitting on the floor near Hufflepuff. The long benches were dotted with cats, owls and other pets.

Suddenly, I froze. I wore a lot of jewellery, and I couldn't bear the thought of all those poor animals getting trapped in my fishnets stockings, or tangled in my many bracelets, or scurrying over my make-up.

"Potter, Harry!" cried McGonagall.

The Great Hall went silent. Everyone looked horrified. Harry Two Ronald behind me must've farted or something.

Oh, yes. I wore a nude top, but I didn't have much boob, being twelve. Perhaps they were expecting someone more sexy.

"Harry One Potter, and Harry Two Ronald, and Hermione Two Smith!" cheered Hermione from behind me. Over on Gryffindor Table, Hermione One face-palmed.

To wear the Sorting Hat, I took off my tiara, and it tangled in my bracelets and earrings.

To my embarrassment, I stumbled over as my red kitten heel turned. My bracelets intertwined with my locket necklace and become stuck in my black fishnet stockings. My nose stud fell out on the floor. Then one of my contacts started flashing ruby light on and off.

One of my DEFINITELY NOT FALSE gold-tipped fingernails peeled off.

People started laughing, as I toppled arse over tip onto the milkmaid's stool.

The Sorting Hat became wedged between my thighs, just under my little tight skirt.

My black string vest over my nude V-shaped tee caught in a splinter from a leg of the stool. It began to run, and my vest unravelled.

My wand fell out, and sparks shot from it, shooting it across the floor like a mini-rocket.

I blushed ruby red. It couldn't get any worse, could it?

The splinter penetrated my clothing and tore through my pee sack.

Pee dribbled through my clothes, soaking my tee and underwear.

"Potter's peed himself!" shouted someone from Slytherin table.

"My name's Harry One," I called forlornly.

The Sorting Hat sighed, wedged between my thighs. "You're supposed to wear me," it said.

*/*/*

The next three minutes were the most embarrassing EVER!

McGonagall floated me upwards, pee trickling towards the ground. It was best to screw tight my eyes, and block my ears with hair.

I was still half-blind from one of contacts flashing on and off.

I longed to run to safety, to the warm embracing arms of Hermione Two.

I spun slowly in the air. My only solace was that I could have been a magical model, revolving to show off the best of my make-up and jewellery and fashion.

I recalled catwalk model music from London Fashion Week.

Picturing myself, unfortunately wearing the Sorting Hat, and strolling down the catwalk, stopped me from panicking.

Someone's chocolate frog jumped off my face.

"Do not throw food!" yelled Dumbledore.

The next sweet bounced off my foot. Another sweet hit my nose.

McGonagall lowered me, and magically untangled my jewellery from my fishnet tights. I was so relieved, I opened my eyes.

Everyone was smirking.

Professor McGonagall whipped the Sorting Hat from between my thighs. She smoothed it and placed it on my head. I had to sit down on the floor, as its stool was splintered.

"Hello Harry," said the Hat, only to me. "Well, well, I see you're a girl now!"

"I've always been a girl," I thought back telepathically.

The Hat coughed. "You've always wondered, and no, you weren't born a girl, you were born a boy. Now, let's see…"

"I'm called Harold, not Harriet?" I said aloud in horror.

More sniggering started in the Great Hall. McGonagall yelled to shut them up.

"You're born Harry James Potter," whispered the Hat. "You have a thirst for fashion, an eye for colour, and a strong desire to became a millionaire. Most of all, you long to be sexy."

"I'm a little sexy bomb," I thought to the Hat.

"I'd lose the string vest and the nude tee, if I were you. And the school won't allow the Potter's family's Notice-Me-Not jewellery you obtained from the bank vault. Stealing is not allowed, nor are heels or make-up or anything but religious underwear. I meant religious jewellery."

"What about religious fashion?" I implored telepathically.

"You'll have to remove that lion tattoo," said the Hat. "And the nose stud and lip piercing. Please continue wearing sensible underwear; the boxers are fine."

"But I look da bomb! I'm a rocking smoking bomb!"

"You'll have to be 'da bomb' outside of school hours. And considering you're here until next June…"

"Nooooooooo! I'm going home at Christmas. Aunt and Uncle want an update on how I'm doing."

"Ridding the school of Dark Magic?" inquired the Hat. It coughed again. "That happened during the eighties."

"It's two thousand and thirteen," I thought.

"It's nineteen ninety one," snapped the Hat, "on the wizard calendar."

"My phone won't work!" I thought desperately. "I can't text! I can't chat! I can't –"

"What's the internet?" inquired the Hat.

"Go on it!" I thought. "Escape the twentieth century and enter the twenty-first!"

"Begone from this school!" I shouted out loud. I missed Ms Pointy. The Sorting Hat was a ripe candidate for a casual vacation.

"Hoodies aren't available," said the Hat. "It's 1991 that Harry Potter goes to Hogwarts. That ghost's deathday party is next year, 1992."

"Ghosts," I thought. "Hoodlums."

"Poltergeists," said the Hat.

Professor McGonagall tapped the Sorting Hat. "Peeves isn't here yet. Try sorting Mr Harry One Potter."

"Slytherin!" cried the Hat, glad to me rid of me.

"Aww," said Harry Two Ronald. "It's my turn, now."

"Puddle, Rose!" cried McGonagall.

A brown-skinned girl skipped up to the Hat.

I made my way to Slytherin Table. They hadn't cheered. Nor did they cheer when Rose Puddle came to join us.

Before I found a seat, Harry Two Ronald was sorted into Hufflepuff with Hermione Two Smith.

It ended with Ron Weasley in Gryffindor, and Blaise Zabini in Slytherin.

"Sit down, Potter," said a Slytherin kindly. "We won't bite."

"Join us, Zabini," said another. She moved her cat out of the way.

I squashed in next to someone's rat and an owl, right at the end, near the teacher's table.

An old wrinkly guy called Dumbledore stood up and threw a scroll, which unrolled, revealing more lyrics to sing.

"Now we sing the School Song," said Dumbledore, "to our most favourite of songs."

McGonagall hid the Sorting Hat behind the teacher's table and sat down. I looked around. The giant man was approaching the front.

Accidentally, I did magic. First my contact lens began flashing on and off, so everyone knew that whatever happened next, it was me.

The bench alongside Gryffindor Table heaved off towards Hufflepuff Table. Several students fell off, as did all the pets.

Next, the furthest bench alongside Hufflepuff Table slid silkily towards Ravenclaw.

Ravenclaw's furthest bench, flew as if magnetised towards Slytherin Table.

Slytherin's furthest bench, that I was sitting on, rammed straight into the wall. A ghost, which was sitting on a tapestry above, fell off and landed right through Draco Malfoy.

The giant man paused to straighten up Gryffindor's bench first. Several students squealed in pain as he dragged the bench across their feet.

"Hagrid!" cried Dumbledore. "Desist!"

Some people kicked Ravenclaw's bench away from Slytherin, but it came back every time as if magnetised. Most older students had their wands drawn.

"Accio Hufflepuff bench!" someone cried. It flew back, over Hufflepuff's Table, whacking some students unconscious.

Dumbledore stood up. "Everyone," he said to all us newbies, "please sing the school song! Pick a tune that you like and all sing the same lyrics." He flourished with his wand, like a conductor.

The other teachers headed towards the back to free Hagrid and everyone in pain.

My favourite tune was very twenty-first century. It was _Bangarang_ by Shrillex.

So I sang, "Yay! School song! Da-da-da-da-da-da! Bangarang! Yay! School Song! Da-da-da-da –"

The rest of Slytherin and most of Ravenclaw driveled on national-anthem style.

It was going to be a very traditional school. Damn.

*/*/*

I'd forgotten all about my mission directive until I found my white silky IKEA wardrobe in the dormitory. It had been repaired.

We didn't have separate rooms. How was I going to get changed every day, sharing a bathroom, when I had to dress openly in front of people, who were probably going to stare. It wasn't just the scar on my forehead, my torso was stretched with scars, from an accident with Mrs Figg.

I'd been rushed to hospital with Dudley after a demon attacked us. It was invisible and deadly, and had lived in her purse.

Mrs Figg had appeared in the hospital as if by dark magic. No one else could see her apart from me.

Perhaps she was wearing Notice-Me-Not jewellery; I remember a brass necklace with a brass leaf pendant. She accused Dudley of being a vampire, but he was special needs and didn't understand the simile, because he'd just gone through her fridge.

Dudley reported back to Aunt and Uncle, but I stayed in hospital all month and ended up with this pee sack problem.

The previous incident in the Great Hall was so embarrassing I considered opening up the satin door of my IKEA wardrobe and hiding in there. Meanwhile, I checked if all my things were in. I'd sacrificed two shelves for books and potion ingredients. The whole wardrobe was robust, yet flimsy, and most of my clothes inside were damp.

Hermione Two must have pushed it into a lake. Perhaps it had fallen overboard. I'd have to find out and call Hermione Two.

I pulled out my phone, but it didn't work. There was no reception.

They hadn't been any hotel reception downstairs either. I wondered where the secretaries office was. At my old primary school, the nurse's office was next door to it, as were the janitor's and caretaker's. Then all the school toilets.

Where would I go to enquire about school services?

I was a bomb, a very depressed bomb. Scarily, I found Ms Pointy under my boxer shorts, and set off for upstairs to our common room, which was all black and silver, and decorated with my pet hate, emerald green.

I left via the secret wall panel, wearing my white dressing gown and fluffy slippers. Ms Pointy was up my sleeve, held in place with an elastic band, as were my rose-coloured wand.

Round my neck, I wore the Dursley family locket, and further down, tucked into my night tee, I wore a clove of garlic. On my head, was my Notice-Me-Not tiara, as were my earrings, one bracelet, and my lip piercing. My lion tattoo had been scrubbed off by an older prefect. My arm was sore.

I considered getting a new tattoo, a red and gold flamed-mouth snake for Slytherin, but the prefects were strict about colour: black and white, or silver and emerald green. Lime green was forbidden, so I couldn't wear my hair slides. The prefect _scourified_ them.

My eyes were devoid of contacts. I squinted in the gloom, using the only function on my phone that was still working: the little torch. Its beam was weaker than the moonlight, which poured in through plain glass windows.

The walls were bare stone, carpeted by some tapestries. Then a wall moved, grating across the ceiling. I was blocked in!

The wall behind me was already moving sideways and a staircase appeared to the left. I half-stumbled down the stairs, clutching at the stair-rail.

I staggered to a halt, as gaping below me was a huge, dark hole. I screamed.

"Who's about at this time?" yelled an old man.

A large cat jumped down next to me, and clawed at my leg.

"Now, you won't be bothering Mrs Norris, won't you?" he sneered.

I didn't know how to answer that. Mrs Norris was hugging my fluffy slippers.

"I'm looking for reception," I cried. "My phone won't connect."

"Phones? Ha! Them sort of Muggle things won't work in Hogwarts."

"Ahhhhhhhhh!"

I WANT TO GO HOME!

"Where's the stairs?" I shrieked. "What's happening?"

Another staircase appeared at a right-angle and snapped into my staircase. I tripped over Mrs Norris and fell forwards. The new staircase carried me away at right-angles and snapped next to a wall. The new staircase led to nowhere.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed and screamed.

My only comfort was the stair-rail. I wrapped both arms and wound one leg around it.

"Stop doing that!" yelled Mrs Norris' owner.

My nose stud fell out and plummeted towards the ground. Next, one earring whirled off, followed by my ruby ring.

Mrs Norris must be magic! She leapt and landed on my arm, raking her claws through my dressing gown. The weight was enough to topple me off the staircase.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I fell through the air, and fortunately slammed into the side of another staircase. My bracelets tangled with that stair-rail, and I swung in mid-air. "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

I floated over a staircase, back onto a floor. I had lost both bracelets.

I didn't like crying, but huge sobs wracked my body, and snot dribbled down my nose.

I wailed.

"Stop making that noise!"

"Be quiet, Mr Filch. What's been happening?" said Professor McGonagall.

"There's a student out of bed," he said gruffly. "I didn't know she would fall off."

I thought Professor McGonagall was all right until she mewed at Mrs Norris. Either she was a furry or that beast was her familiar.

I shivered. Dark magic was everywhere.

Aunt and Uncle weren't right to send me to rid this school of evil. I was only twelve! I wanted their warm and reassuring hugs. I wasn't adult enough to handle this by myself. The innocent would fall, like Hermione Two and Harry Two Ronald too.

I got out Ms Pointy. My garlic clove was lower down, wedged in my boxers.

I had spent most of the past two years, training to be a demon slayer. Ms Pointy was my reward for acquiring a white belt in self-defence.

Uncle had carved it all by himself. It had killed two demons at his workplace, before he had passed it onto me.

I'd never seen a demon as they were invisible to teenagers and children. Only Aunt and Uncle could see them. Sometimes they rode big invisible horses, other times they sucked all the happiness out of your soul.

Dudley had encountered his first demon at McDonalds. It was his birthday party, and Ronald McDonald's lookalike clown had been in abject misery for all his life.

Aunt, however, had special powers, and had spotted a large bony robed demon in the corner, breathing and sucking in everyone's happiness.

Unfortunately, she contacted Mrs Figg, who had said, "Poor thing. Looks like its starving."

Uncle was better. He broke into McDonalds at night, sprinkled salt in a circle, and cornered it. Uncle had brought his gun, and fired it straight into its mouth. It exploded, covering everything in dust.

Uncle was a hero, but the other adults working at McDonalds couldn't see it. Morale improved slightly, Dudley had another birthday there, so did I, when I renounced church, as the British Christians didn't acknowledge demons anymore.

Me and Uncle and Aunt and Dudley all had to turn into Satanists. It was the only source of help that provided help on demons and how to turn them to your advantage, or kill them.

My thoughts and crying was interrupted by Professor McGonagall. She stood above me, and helped me to my feet.

She didn't like it when I fell against her, wrapping my arms around her like a child, and cried into her robe. She pushed me away and slapped me.

"Potter, get hold of yourself! Why are you out of bed?"

"No, I'm not all right," I whimpered. "I want to go home!"

"This is Hogwarts, Potter. This is your new home and school, Potter."

"Stop calling me Potter. My name's Harry like Harriet."

"What? We thought something amiss with the skirt and tiara."

"I was raised as a girl." Then I confided in her, like I had to with the teachers at my primary school. "Everything's mangled down there, miss. I was in an accident when I was four years old."

"Oh. We-we didn't hear anything… Miss Potter."

"Mrs Figg took me on the train and it exploded. I was in hospital for months."

"She never told us anything."

Out of guilt, said Uncle. Then she joined our Satanist circle and had a fit laughing. We never spoke to her again.

I discreetly checked my pee-sack. It was intact, and a sixth full.

"Miss McGonagall, I want to go home! My phone won't work."

"Phones don't work here, Potter. You'll have to wait until your Aunt and Uncle send you a letter with your owl."

"My phone worked on the train! Me and Hermione Two were texting each other in the toilets!"

"Electricity doesn't work in Hogwarts. I'm sure this was in the covering letter along with your supplies."

"Whu?" I was in shock. It was whacking into that last staircase, I'm sure of it.

Professor McGonagall mewed. Mrs Norris mewed back. Miss McGonagall was a terrible teacher. I sniffed, and my vision blurred.

Professor McGonagall looked at me. "Are you all right, Potter?"

"I can't see," I said.

"Glasses! Your father used to need them. I suppose they fell down the stairwell."

She gave me her glasses. "Whu?" I said, starting to feel very cold. I was going into shock.

I was saved by Mrs Norris, weaving her way between my ankles and purring. I scooped her up, and hugged her to my chest. Her claws went in, but she was warm enough to stop shock setting in.

"I really want to go home," I said, between chattering teeth.

"That's not possible," said McGonagall.

"Please!" I begged. "I might die tonight. I don't want any more stairwells. I can't do it."

"Well, we could speak to Dumbledore. Mr Filch!"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Take Miss Potter up to Dumbledore, please. I'll keeping searching for his-her glasses."

"I'm a she, a her, a herself," I said, following Mr Filch up a stable staircase concealed behind a wall.

We made it to Dumbledore's gargoyle after I followed every one of Mr Filch's instructions.

"Wait here," he said, opening up yet another staircase.

"Why don't you have lifts?" I mumbled, exhausted.

"What?"

"Elevators, man," I snapped. "Escalators, anything! Anything but more bloody stairs! I almost died tonight and no one cares, not even Mrs Norris."

"Keep your tongue, girl." He wandered up towards Dumbledore's room, sniggering. "Miss Potter! Hahaha!"

I dropped Mrs Norris by the gargoyle. She purred gratefully, and batted me on the groin. My clove of garlic shot out and disappeared through the stair-rail.

Was everything I owned doomed to fall down the stairwell tonight? I tongued my lip-piercing, the one I got only a week ago. It was gold with a teeny-weeny little ruby, like my belt. I still had my tight little skirt under my dressing gown as I needed help to get it off. But everyone in the dormitory, even Pansy and Millicent had sniggered at me.

But I was da bomb, da little banging bomb, I told myself. A rocking, banging bomb destined to rid Hogwarts of all dark magic and evil… with salt.

Salt worked on everyone, Uncle found. Demons of all kinds, even the horse-riders, were foundered by salt. Ms Pointy was saturated with brine.

My salt-pickled garlic had gone. Both bracelets had gone, so had my nose stud, one earring, my lime-green hair slides, but…

…neither fluffy slipper, nor dressing gown, nor night-time tee, nor tight little skirt belted and studded with rubies. The zip was around the back, and I couldn't get it off. Pansy insisted I sleep in it.

Bolstered by my lip-piercing, but depressed over my scrubbed-off tattoo, I entered Dumbledore's office.


	5. Chapter 5 & The Nervous Breakdown

"Students are required to knock," said Mr Filch, exiting the room.

The headteacher Dumbledore was sitting opposite with a big floppy nightcap atop his head. The Sorting Hat was behind him on a shelf, next to a sleeping bird, that looked shiny in the moonlight, despite being a dull dirty yellow.

Dumbledore looked at me, no longer winking. "Miss Potter, why were you out of bed tonight?"

"Mr Filch should of told you, sir. But I almost died! I fell down the stairs and _off the stairs_ because everything moves!"

Dumbledore flicked through some paperwork. "Hagrid also told me that your satin wardrobe, not a trunk, contained a number of items that belonged to other students. Are you a thief, Miss Potter?"

I wanted to say, Yes, I am. That's how I survived in London, with Aunt and Uncle on benefits. Uncle's business collapsed and we needed money. We sank low, too low. But I came out classy, fashionable and with some extra-curricular skills that my primary school never found out about.

"Well, Miss Potter?"

Stealing makes me feel good. I'm only a little guilty, but I need them. I need lipstick. I need cash. I need something tight wedged between my thighs like five DVDs from Tesco. I need nail polish from Boots, sir. And most of all, I need another earring from Boutique Avenue.

"No, sir. I gave them back." To a fence like Cho Chang, and she got caught handing them back, not me. I'm discreet. I'm a little sexy bomb!

"Is this something you've learnt from your previous school?"

"No, sir. I learnt it trapped in a basement in a warehouse in London. I was handcuffed next to my cousin Dudley, and it took me hours to figure out how to pick the locks."

And that's how I started, sir. I try to live an honest life, but sometimes I've got no choice. It was the young offenders clinic or freedom that night. And I'm proud, sir, I got freedom for me and Dudley.

Freedom was what I required now.

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" I cried. Suddenly, I was in protest. A song burst onto my lips. I started clapping my hands in my head.

_"I WANT TO GO HOME!_

_I WANT TO GO HOME!_

_My name is Harry Dursley,_

_Not Potter. By Thursday_

_I want to be at home_

_With Auntie and Uncle_

_And Dudley, Dudley, Dudley!_

_I WANT TO GO HOME!_

_I WANT TO GO HOME!_

_Dear Mr Dumbledore,_

_I don't want no more_

_Magic or enemies._

_Please Mr Dumbledore,_

_Voldemort is no more!_

_He died twelve years ago._

_I never knew his soul._

_I never knew mum;_

_I never knew dad,_

_One thing I know, mum was really bad._

_She killed the neighbour's cat,_

_Killed the neighbours via bats._

_Demons roam our land at night…"_

"Hahahahaha!" went the Sorting Hat. "It's as bad as the seventeenth century!"

"I thought your songs went through a dud patch," said a portrait.

"Oh, shut it! You try singing about school houses for millennia!"

"How old is this school?" I whimpered.

"Over a thousand," said the Sorting Hat.

"He has to relearn English every two centuries," supplied a portrait.

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" I cried. "TONIGHT, TONIGHT, TONIGHT!"

Freedom, I thought. My hands shook. I needed freedom now.

I ran past Dumbledore to the window, and swung it outwards.

"Hold on, wait, wait," said Dumbledore, twisting round. "Don't do anything rash, Miss Potter."

"FREEDOM!" I screamed out the window.

My hands longed to steal. It had been a long night. I clutched at the locket around my neck for comfort. It contained salt.

That bloody Sorting Hat was still laughing. I opened the locket, and shook a bit of precious heavenly salt into my fist. I blew it over the Sorting Hat.

"What's this?" asked Dumbledore, as the Sorting Hat stopped laughing.

The Hat started sniggering. "She threw salt over me. She's as bad as that witch Hazel Doodlebug we had in seventeen thirty two."

"The one that tried to baptise students in the lake? Poor girl, she almost drowned herself."

My questing fingers grabbed the Sorting Hat, and I charged back down Dumbledore's staircase, trying to wear it on my head like my tiara.

"Calm down, I'm hardly worth anything!" said the Sorting Hat.

"I want to be resorted!" was the first thing I thought.

"Gryffindor!" yelled the Hat aloud. "Definitely not Slytherin now!"

In my head, a little shaft of light awoke up to the right-hand side. A shadow of a man strode out.

_No one's resorted in this school,_ he said, waggling his finger.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" I screamed. THERE'S A DEMON IN MY HEAD!

_My name's… Godric,_ he said dubiously.

"It's Slytherin," the Sorting Hat told me. "Stop running like this, you're going to do yourself an injury at this speed."

Mr Filch's servant door was locked. I charged down the next corridor.

In my head, two more shafts of light appeared. Two womanly shadows appeared.

_What's wrong with this student?_

_He thinks he's a she, because it was easier after an accident to raise him as a girl._

_Yes, that can confuse anyone. In some years from now, it's going to be worse._

"Puberty," explained the Hat. "If you chose to start cross-dressing by yourself it would have been easier."

I slowed down behind a statue, sucking in air. I had lost a fluffy slipper somewhere. My foot was cold, so I rested it on the statue's plinth.

Somewhere in the statue, a counterweight went clunk. The statue swung around, revealing a hole. I was off-balance on one foot, and I fell in, screaming.

The Sorting Hat, for once, screamed with me. The hole closed up as the statue swung back.

I was sliding down a stone chute with slippery walls. The smell was really bad, and I fought to breathe.

My sleeve began to glow. Ms Pointy? No, it was my wand. I flicked it out, the wand bounced off my knee, and I caught it!

"Do you know any spells?" I asked the Sorting Hat.

_What's going on?_ asked the little trio of shadow people inside my head.

"I'll tell you later!" yelled the Sorting Hat. "Open your eyes, Potter!"

"They are open," I said. "It's dark in here!"

Ahhhhhhhhh! The Sorting Hat was possessing me! IT'S A DEMON!

We steered down the stone chute, my dressing gown ripping on sharp turns, but my skirt and magical boxers protected me.

I bumped into the air, and slammed back down, losing my last earring.

"Nooooooooo!" I cried, and clutched at my locket.

_What are these purple bits in your hair?_ asked one shadow woman.

"My hair extensions," I cried. "Don't bite them!"

I heard them laughing.

_She's not as bad as Hazel Doodlebug,_ said the shadow man. _She was a demon slaying priest in her head, this one's only up to salt._

"It's a new century," I said, wincing at the sexism. "Women can be bishops and priests now."

"I've told you," snapped the Sorting Hat, "it's the end of the twentieth century. It's nineteen ninety one. And non-magicals have taken ages to catch up."

"He still sounded sexist," I whimpered. "I don't like him. Make him go away."

They laughed.

"Where are we?" I asked. I hadn't hit many dodgy turns for a few moments.

_A secret passageway, one of the many winding ways that Hogwarts contains within and without its walls, _answered the man.

I found my mobile phone still in my dressing gown pocket. Within the pocket, I switched it on.

_Light!_ cried a woman.

"Um," said the Sorting Hat. It settled deeper on my head. "This is odd."

Before anyone could stop me, I hit speed-dial nine, and rang emergency services.

"Hello, this is 999. Please state the nature of your emergency. Do you need the Police, an Ambulance, or the Fire Service?"

"I want to go home!" I yelled, holding my phone up. "I've been kidnapped! There's this man and these women –" _In my head,_ but I couldn't say that.

"I'm putting you through to the Police," said the operator.

"He's not being kidnapped," yelled the Sorting Hat, but its voice was now crackling with static.

"This is the Police," I heard someone say with a Scottish accent. "How can I assist you?"

The Sorting Hat possessed me, and my thumb hit speed-dial again. A tone beeped.

"We're tracing your call," said the police. "Please stand by. If you can speak, please tell us what's happening."

When I wanted to move my hand, nothing happened. I couldn't move, and so I couldn't swing into the next bend.

I slammed into the stone turn. The phone was jolted from my hand.

"Damn," muttered the Sorting Hat.

_What's going on?_ queried the shadow voices. _Godric, talk to us._

"I told you not to call me that when we're working!"

One of the shadow people coughed. _You're up ahead as well, mate._

I didn't know what they meant, but soon I pitched forward into smelly water.

I made swimming motions automatically, and tried to stay with my head above water. It was pitch black. I was still wearing the Sorting Hat.

Ahead – I couldn't believe it – but I saw glowing grey-pink tentacles rise up. They were massive, and glowed with florescent algae.

_I told you immortality wasn't worth it,_ said the shadow man. _Not as a squid._

_Let me have a go,_ said a shadow woman.

They must have switched, because I turned in the water, and headed back towards the slope.

"It's somewhere around here," said the Sorting Hat. "La, la, la, la –" then its voice crackled with static again "– la, la, la. Got it!"

My hand was automatically clutching my mobile phone, but its screen-light was flickering. It wasn't waterproof.

Nooooooooo! I would lose all my saved chats, my texts, my games, my ringtones, my photos…

It flickered out, and so did the emergency call. I don't know whether they managed to trace me or not.

A large glowing tentacle wrapped around my middle and lifted me out the water. It was really slimy.

"Hello me!" said the Hat, radiating with sparkling light.

The squid blinked. Another tentacle wound around my legs, steadying me.

I found my voice. "You perv!" I cried.

The shadow voices started sniggering. _You want to get out of here, don't you?_

The squid swam squid-like down the watery pipe. It stopped smelling as bad, and new, cold air blew in. I gulped down the oxygen gratefully.

When the squid sat me on the grass by the lakeside, my legs collapsed under me. My feet were freezing, my dressing gown torn, Ms Pointy still in my pocket, but…

…I had no phone, no salt left in my locket, no fluffy slippers, no more earrings, one hair extension still attached, and a bald spot on the back of my head.

I still was wearing my magical boxer shorts, my tight little skirt, belted but no longer studded with rubies – they'd been scraped off down the stone chute ride of doom. Miraculously, I was still wearing McGonagall's glasses, pinched high on my nose.

I'd also lost nine gold-tipped fingernails, but not my red and gold toenail polish.

_You were very sure that you were going to be Gryffindor, weren't you?_ asked one of two men now inside my head.

I tore off the Sorting Hat, and threw it onto the grass besides me.

In my head, two shadow men and one shadow woman was looking at me, as if in fright.

"Put the Hat on right now!"

"Shan't," I whimpered. I curled up under a bush, and tried huffing on my feet to warm them up.

A grey door opened in the front of my head, and I felt odd, as three shadow people left me. The grey door glowered back as it shut. My head was my own again, it felt.

"We're all back!" cheered the Sorting Hat. "Now put the Hat on!"

I was summoned as if by dark magic. I crawled over the grass, wearing the Hat, and kept crawling, crying, and not knowing what I was really doing.

_There, there,_ I heard someone say outside my head, inside my head, outside my head…

"There, there, poor old girl," said the Sorting Hat sadly. "I think we broke her."

*/*/*

I awoke wrapped in a white sheet, in a huge dormitory filled with empty beds. It smelled like potion ingredients. My vision blurred with tears, and I found myself huddled underneath the sheet, curled in a foetal position, sucking at my left thumb.

"Miss Potter, are you all right?" A woman approached my bed. I wanted her to go away.

"I'm called Madam Pomfrey. You've been here all day since last night. Can you tell us what happened?"

"I never want to meet that Hat again!" I cried.

"There, there," said Madam Pomfrey, turning to the next bed. There was a Hat on it.

"It hasn't said much," she said. "Miss Potter, can you tell us what happened?"

I turned my head away, and spotted a hand-made Get Well Soon card. It was from my Hermione Two. There was also a note from Pansy and Millicent, and something signed Squiggle Snape about sleep-walking.

There was also a letter from McGonagall and Dumbledore. I suspected it said things in adult terms about Do Not Sue Us because we're magical.

I felt sadly light-headed, like I was going to cry again.

"Is there any water?" I asked. She disappeared into a blur of the hospital section, and reappeared with a glass of pumpkin juice. I held it up to the light; it was the same colour of pee that collected in my pee-sack yesterday.

"Water, please," I begged. "This looks like pee." A tear ran down my face.

"It's pumpkin juice. All wizards drink it."

"Witches, too? I'm a girl." _I'm also a bomb, a very good sexy bomb!_

She sniffed. "It's full of vitamins, like Muggles want."

I clutched at my locket. "Where's my salt?"

She coughed. "You don't need that any more."

"It gets rid of demons said my Uncle. We're Satanists."

The Sorting Hat spluttered water onto the sheets. "Actually," it said wetly, "it was a Dementor your Uncle shot, and it was a Thestral that left probably due to its owner arriving, not the sheer amount of salt your Aunt threw at it."

"There we are," said Madam Pomfrey awkwardly. "A logical explanation for everything."

"It was like five packets of table salt," added the Hat. "That was a sight to see." It started laughing, nicely.

I was so light-headed, I joined in, tears rolling down my cheeks.

*/*/*

"What's a Thestral?" I asked later.

"It's a type of partially invisible horse," answered the Sorting Hat, sounding bored. "Madam Pomfrey, how long do I have to remain in here?"

"Until you're dry, there's a good boy."

"I think… last night… he was a woman," I said. Last night's memories were really blurry. Madam Pomfrey had given me a potion to forget.

"Not everyone's a girl, Miss Potter," said Madam Pomfrey, fluffing my pillows with magic. Good, she was keeping away from me.

I was still a deadly bomb. I licked my lip piercing… like a cat.

Like McGonagall. I'd just seen a cat turn into my teacher.

"Meow," I said joyfully. "Here, pussy, pussy, pussy."

"That's enough, Potter," she said.

"Don't say that word," warned the Sorting Hat. "I'm merely wet, Professor. I need the Laundry."

"Hat, we need to talk to you."

"I'm too wet," said the Hat. "I was in the lake with the squid and Harriet Potter."

"I can't think how you all got in there," began McGonagall.

"We didn't jump," I said gleefully. "We slid."

"Albus mentioned a window danger," hinted Madam Pomfrey.

I thought about my earrings. They'd only found one. I leaned out of bed, wondering where my little tight skirt was, and how many rubies were glistening round the back.

_I've got money, _I thought to myself. _Rubies, rubies, rubies…_

_Gold, gold, gold, gold._

"I think Albus was more worried about his background. He-she doesn't seem to know why so many people are so interested. She'd never heard of Lord Voldemort until the train ride. Yesterday, Poppy, _yesterday_."

"It was in my letter," I said. "Just like Aunt and Uncle told me years ago." I started to laugh. My favourite stealing itch was back in my fingers. As soon as they left…

"Miss Potter, finish off your potion. There's a good girl," encouraged Madam Pomfrey.

"Well? Miss Potter? Sorting Hat? Anyone wants to tell us what happened?"

"You haven't interviewed the squid yet," said the Hat. "He helped us out."

"You should've taken Fawkes with you," snapped Madam Pomfrey.

"Forks?" I asked. Hahahaha! Forks, knives, spoons… salt.

"The phoenix," said the Hat gently. "Yellow, dirty bird, you thought yesterday." The Hat wetly coughed up a small fish.

McGonagall waved her wand quickly, and it turned into a mothball.

Madam Pomfrey tossed the mothball into a glass of water.

I had no choice but to sip that wretched pee-coloured pumpkin juice.

"The potion, Potter," urged McGonagall. "I know you want to get back to your friends, and lessons, but we have to find out what happened."

"I had a forgetting potion," I said. "I don't remember anything."

I needed to steal something.

"Were you and the Sorting Hat together the whole time?"

The Hat was silent, then said, "Yes, but there was some… swapping around… inside."

"I don't remember a thing," I said. I wondered where Gregory's key was…


	6. Chapter 6 & The Recovery

Professor McGonagall wore the Hat. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," chorused the Hat.

A room lit up with candlelight appeared in her mind's eye.

A shadow of a man limped across into main view. The wax candles faded and four short cylinders replaced them. The wooden table faded into darkness, and where it had been three more people walked forward.

There were two men and two women.

They waited.

"What happened?" thought McGonagall.

_'Tell me', I heard,_ said the first, Slytherin.

_We destroyed her muggle phone device,_ said the third, Ravenclaw. _It sank._

_We weren't where thought we were. We slid down to a septic tank near the lake._

"You did what?!"

_We found a new secret passageway,_ said Ravenclaw sweetly.

_I don't remember that one being built,_ said the second, Hufflepuff.

_I think that one's not supposed to flow directly into the septic tank,_ said Slytherin. _It was for ventilation, and meant to end near the tannery._

_We should have landed on leather, or rugs,_ said the fourth, Gryffindor. It sounded a lot like the Sorting Hat.

"We don't have a tannery," thought McGonagall.

_We do,_ said Slytherin. _I was steering, and I thought Miss Potter might like to find out how rose-coloured leather jackets were made in the old days._

"We don't have one," thought McGonagall. "Potter likes leather. Really?"

_It doesn't help much,_ said Huffepuff, _that she fell down the stairwell earlier._

"I had to rescue her," thought McGonagall. She tried to remember how Harry Potter had fallen onto the staircase.

_Hanging by a bracelet,_ supplied Hufflepuff.

_Lost both earrings, the weird nose-ring, almost the lip-ring… what, what were all those things called?_ asked Gryffindor. _Why would anyone wear all that?_

_Fashion,_ replied Ravenclaw and Slytherin together. _Money._

_It was all Notice-Me-Not,_ said Hufflepuff. _Did you notice she was… a little desperate?_

"I heard the screams, but it was very hard locating everything that fell off."

_I don't think anyone noticed,_ said Gryffindor.

_We were having a terrible time trying not to laugh,_ said Ravenclaw.

_I think we broke her,_ admitted Hufflepuff.

_What did we do with the Room of Requirement?_ asked Slytherin.

"We use it as a lost property office," thought McGonagall.

_We could summon the earrings from there_, he said. _If you invite her in._

*/*/*

I woke up.

I had to wear someone else's dressing gown over someone else's night-shirt. "You could have brought me some clothes," I said.

Hermione Two shrugged. "They wouldn't let me in. Slytherin's at war with all the other houses."

"No, Miss Smith. _All_ the houses are at war with each other."

"Until you're, oh, about eighteen or nineteen," said the Sorting Hat. "Then it becomes fun, happy memories over the next forty years."

"Potter."

"This is Professor Snape, your house master."

I looked over. It was beaky guy from the teacher's dinner table. He looked cross.

McGonagall left me and Hermione Two and Harry Two Ronald.

"Hello, Harry One!" he said, smiling. He was wearing Hermione's strawberry hair gel, and had her purple hair extension dangling over his left ear.

"I painted his nails last night," said Hermione. "Our common room's really old-fashioned. It's older than World War Two."

"Sorry, Hermione, I shouldn't have said that yesterday."

"Day before."

"It's OK, Harry One," said Harry Two.

Snape looked at McGonagall. "How many do we have?"

"Two Hermiones, two Harrys, and one Weasley. Weasley is a Gryffindor like Hermione One. These two are in Hufflepuff, and Harriet Potter is –"

"A girl," finished Snape.

So what? I wanted to ask. Talk to the hand, man.

Instead I said: "I keep crying. What's happened to me? I can't remember anything!"

"They said you've had healing potions," said Hermione.

"You jumped out a window and flew into the lake," supplied Harry Two. "Dumbledore announced you were rapping."

"That was me," said the Sorting Hat. "I'm still with it."

I looked up. It was up there, on McGonagall's head.

"Prove it," I said. "Everything you say sounds like dust."

"I rapped on the first day of term," said the Hat. "Actually, I wanted to show you –"

"The tannery," said McGonagall. "No. She stays here. We've got all her things in this weird strange upright white silk trunk."

"My IKEA wardrobe!" I shrieked.

"It took ages," said Hermione. "No one knew what it was."

"We're all muggle-born," said Harry Two. "Lots of purebloods have never been to IKEA."

"I had to leave my trunk with Ron and Percy, and push your wardrobe into a boat. Everything fell out again, including Ron's lookalike jumper scraps and Superman Sheep and your hair extensions and your spare sacks and boxers and another pair of glasses and –"

"Superman Sheep?" asked Snape. "What's that, Miss Smith?"

"We made it," said Hermione, "in the toilets together. I cut it up and Harry One modelled it, and Harry Two folded it into the picnic basket so people wouldn't laugh. And all through the train ride…" she trailed off, and sniffed.

"Train ride," said Snape. "And?"

"I miss my mum and dad," she said. "I've never been away for this long before."

"That happens," said Snape. He patted her on the head quickly. "What's Superman Sheep, because the Weasleys Twins are in uproar." He wiped his hand.

"That's strawberry gel," said Harry Two. "The Weasley twins didn't do anything to us, sir. It's was Ron's jumper that Harry One stole."

It was the right word to say. My hands were itching with the urge to steal.

I slid a piece of Notice-Me-Not jewellery towards me. It was the ruby ring, I twisted it onto my finger underneath the sheets.

"I didn't know Harry One stole it," she said, looking at me and twisting her mouth. "I like you, but I've never done anything like that."

"We caught Miss Chang earlier. Second year Ravenclaw," said McGonagall. "Who told us about some Sixth Years transfiguring her and a strange first year and stowing them away in Mr Malfoy's luggage."

"Who was you," said Hermione. "I didn't know where you'd gone."

"Flew away with Superman Sheep out the window, back towards England," said Harry Two. "That's what I heard."

"Yes, and they called you Harry Potter's strange twin sister, even though you're Harry with an i."

"I'm Harry with a y," I said. "Thank you for Superman Sheep. It was fun."

Snape said, "Are you sure he's… she's twelve?"

"Yes," I snapped. "I'm twelve and old enough to go Hogwarts now, said Aunt. She kept me back for a year, so I could learn more."

Earn more, I remembered. We didn't know about the Potters' bank account, and I was entitled to free things at school, like breakfast and choir practise. Afterwards, I had to work for the neighbours, and help Aunt with housework.

I always wanted to grow up and be a thief.

*/*/*

The Sorting Hat was outside the tannery, when it heard Professor Quirrell muttering to himself.

"No master," was among the muttering.

The Sorting Hat got the House Elf to wait. It strained to hear.

"My lord… the boy… no, master… no…"

The House Elf looked at the Sorting Hat in the mirror. The Sorting Hat stared back, borrowing her gaze briefly.

"Now what?" thought the elf.

Professor Quirrell was having some trouble with his turban. It should've been better to remove the whole thing, and start again. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher looked strangely incompetent.

The Sorting Hat sighed. It looked like he was smuggling contraband in. Better to tell Dumbledore early.

It directed the House Elf towards the tannery first, and they both melted through the doorway.

*/*/*

Slytherin wore the house elf first, and directed her over to some dusty rags.

The house elf found a fitting leather apron, and also produced yellow rubber gloves. She wore more equipment necessary for dyeing leather, like a mask to stop the fumes getting into her eyes. Something went between her teeth, and she tied the apron strings behind her back.

"Ready, sir!" she thought.

Slytherin got her to hammer out some flanks, and prepare a rose-coloured tint.


	7. Chapter 7 & The New Smell

Dumbledore fiddled with his pen. He twisted round. The Sorting Hat smelled.

"I think you need a wash," he said.

"I was in the laundry earlier," it lied. "I have to go back when the tub's repaired for a final spin."

"Where is the septic tank that you fell in Saturday night?"

"Near the lake," said the Hat promptly. "West side, near the bushes. Big enough for a giant squid to squeeze through."

"Was Harry Potter under water at all? He has to breathe. She, I forgot."

"My, my, the Girl Who Lived. How are people coping with the gender change? And… no, she wasn't underwater. The air got better the further out we got. It was a tight squeeze," the Sorting Hat added.

"Her pee-sack exploded, apparently."

"She's had that all her life," it said hurriedly. "She's used to changing it. Non-magical medicine these days. A lot better now."

Dumbledore put down his pen. "How many of you in there talked to her?"

"All of me, really. She didn't like me much."

"Hmm. What did you say to her?"

"She had a Forgetful Potion afterwards, which cleared up and smoked out lots of things. Professor Snape is very good."

"Yes, he is. In the meantime, Professor Quirrell is feeling unwell, but is still capable of teaching."

"He's smuggling contraband in! He's talking like he's addicted to dark magic. He's talking to some… one lordly."

"I've asked the house elves to search his room quietly."

"No, _I did_. You obeyed me. We were having this funny talk about the Giant Squid again."

Dumbledore played with his beard. "I've seen more wizards on dark magic than you've had in this office, Sorting Hat."

The Hat tried a new tactic. "He's smuggling cocaine in under his turban. I saw him."

"You _saw_ him?"

"I was wearing a house elf with good sight. I saw him, and he wouldn't take the damn thing off. It smelt terrible. If it's not cocaine, it's marijuana."

A portrait opened an eye sleepily. "We haven't heard about 'good sight' for a long time."

"Drugs," said the Hat. "Muggle rock and roll drugs, 'getting high'. It's not wizard's whizzing weed. Muggle drugs are illegal, they get worse, everything's contaminated. It's not just mushrooms and toadstools, Albus."

"We had deathsnap in our day," said a portrait.

"That actually worked," said the Hat. "In very small doses. I think that's how you died."

"Oh yes. Overdose."

Dumbledore said, "Can we talk about Harry Potter? You can see through his eyes, her eyes at the time, and saw…"

"Nothing. It was dark, very dark, and splashy."

"You can light up," said the portrait wistfully.

"I don't."

"You do. You lit up all sparkly once in sunlight. I really liked you like that."

"Thank you, Sir Edward," snapped the Hat. "It takes up a lot of magic."

"You did provide light for Miss Potter?" asked Dumbledore.

The Sorting Hat sighed. "Yes, me and the squid did. But Quirrell –"

"Hat, what happened to Miss Potter's mind?"

The Hat was silent.

"Professor Snape's had a look, and Miss Potter has had some strange memories throughout her life."

"Gender-related?"

"No, missing. She knows she behaved like that, like Tom." Dumbledore sighed. "I hoped a life in the Muggle world would be a better life."

"For her. Yes, maybe. It's getting better. I'm not sure about electricity. I think I short-circuited something in the water."

"Her phone. Lots of first years have brought them again. They've got a very strange calendar on them. It's the twenty-first century in the Muggle world now."

"It's not," snapped the Hat. "I keep track! I keep very good time! It's nineteen ninety one. We've got a Gregorian decade to go before the year two thousand. I don't remember when the Muggles changed the calendar worldwide. It was sometime in June."

"They say it's over a decade after the year two thousand. Most of them were born in two thousand and two."

"Some Muggles are becoming odd about the year two thousand. Some computers are going to stop working worldwide, due to how they are constructed. They handle a date system of only a hundred years, and cannot theoretically cope with twenty hundred.

"However," continued the Hat, "They keep saying two thousand instead of twenty hundred and two, which follows nineteen hundred and two, and eighteen hundred and two, and so on."

"Harry Potter," reminded a portrait. "I told you, you should have adopted him, Albus."

"I couldn't have put up with him running around in here," said Albus Dumbledore.

"You could've been Granddad," said the portrait. "I had my grandchildren in here."

The Hat coughed. "There's been three teachers in here once who conceived their children in here as well."

"Shut up!" hissed a portrait. "You've never let on!"

"Godric Gryffindor never conceived," said the Hat, sounding happy. "He didn't have a descendant. He just prefers to hang around."

"Immortal," said the portrait. "In several places, it's rumoured, without Horcruxi."

"Like the Hat," said another portrait.

Dumbledore peered at the Hat. "Is this true?"

"Possibly," said the Hat, sounding pleased. "I've left him in the tannery."

*/*/*

Professor Quirrell smelt something odd in the air.

As per usual, his Lordship complained about it.

_Wash your feet!_ _I can smell it from up here._

"It's the students," he thought. "You must know students, my lord."

_I wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts teaching role._

"I had to apply, master," he thought.

"Turn to page nine," he shouted. "Read the passage and write about it."

He retreated behind his desk.

_Potter, I want Potter… and his little sexy bomb!_

"No, master," Quirrell thought. "I won't work with a paedophile."

_A little banging bomb! Ha! A little sexy rocking bomb!_

Voldemort dissolved into laughter.

_The Girl Who Lived_ _is a thief! I've heard Dumbledore complain!_

"At the teaching meeting, my lord," he thought back. "Please let me listen next time, sir."

_A girl! He's a girl! His aunt and uncle cross-dressed him and fed him all those lies. All those lies! But they're both mudbloods, because they can see Dementors. And they're so uneducated, I may change my mind about allowing mudbloods to Hogwarts._

"I'm worried about the Sorting Hat," thought Quirrell.

_It's a hat. I discovered everything about Slytherin when I was here. The hat is not worth it. It merely opens new doors._

"The songs were better," thought Quirrell, "first time around."

_Shut up! I told you, don't think about it._

"But you time-travelled, master! And you kicked your younger self out of my head."

_Fool! Don't talk about… the 'other me'._

"But the other you's snivelling about rats again, without me, master. Let me support both of you!"

_There's not enough room, Quirrell._

"How many snakes do you need to relax you, master? I can't leave you like that, master, in my trunk."

_None. Be quiet about the other me. I'll deal with him later, the fool._

"But that's _you_, master.

I can't bear it when you hit yourself with _Crucio_."

_I'm used to it,_ said Voldemort to him. _He better get used to _me_ being in charge._

*/*/*

The Sorting Hat stared at Hermione Two Smith's mobile phone.

A house elf pressed the ninth button on the grid, three times.

"Please state the nature of your emergency. Do you need the Police, an Ambulance, or the Fire Service?"

"I need to talk to the police, please," said the Sorting Hat, voice crackling with static.

"It's a bad line," said the operator. "I'm putting you through."

"This is the Police," said the next person with a Scottish accent. "How can I help you?"

"I had a twelve year old child contact this emergency police number last Saturday. You were attempting to trace the call before the phone fell into a lake."

"Is this an emergency? This number is used for emergency calls."

The Sorting Hat thought for a moment. "Did you manage to trace the whereabouts of the phone, as she fell into a lake in the middle of a 'mountain camping trip'."

"We cannot disclose that information. Is the twelve year old missing?"

"We rescued her from a lake. She said something about being kidnapped. Is the call still recorded?"

"I cannot answer that question. Who is the twelve year old?"

"She's a new member of our… church. Our healer still has her in bed."

"What's her name? I need more information."

"Harry Potter," tested the Sorting Hat.

"It's a bad line," said the Muggle police as they hadn't reacted. "What's her name?"

"Harriet Potter. She came in dressed in nude clothing, with a short skirt and fishnets. She's only twelve, and she wears an extraordinary amount of make-up and carat gold jewellery. She's also a young thief, and steals from the other children."

"She's a thief? Is this true? This is an emergency line."

"Yes," said the Hat. "In our church, we're worried about her moral background, and her family's."

"Where are you?"

"Can you trace this call?" tested the Sorting Hat again. "We're in a private church in a valley. This is private land."

"This is a very bad line. Can you repeat where you are?"

The Sorting Hat paused.

"Where are you?"

"This is a private religious organisation."

"Yes, I heard that." The police operator sighed. It sounded like a long night. "What is the name of the town?"

"The local village is named after the tavern. We're in a valley. This is _Scotland_."

"What is the nearest motorway? What is the nearest town?"

The Sorting Hat disclosed the Muggle side of Hogwarts.

"Ah, so there's nothing over that way." The phone went dead.

The Sorting Hat stared at the mobile phone. "Damn."

*/*/*

Professor McGonagall was heading towards class, when the Sorting Hat pounced on her head.

"What?!"

"I need help," pleaded the Sorting Hat. "I'm in trouble."

"The Weasley Twins?" Her mouth twisted.

"No. Me. Muggles. Drugs."

"What?" She hauled the Sorting Hat off her head. "What happened?"


	8. Chapter 8 & Bangarang

Professor Quirrell was summoned by Floo to an emergency staff meeting. It was all the staff, including a few spouses, Hagrid and Filch.

_What's happening?_ Lord Voldemort sounded sleepy.

"We should contact the Governor's Board," said Professor Sprout.

Dumbledore opened the window. There was the distant sound of a helicopter.

"There's a Muggle Search and Rescue team out there. They can't find us exactly, but they're getting closer."

McGonagall prodded the Sorting Hat. "Tell them what you did!" she commanded.

"I told the Muggles where Hogwarts is," said the Hat.

"What?!"

Snape stood up and gripped his wand. He swung it at the Hat.

"It's drug-related," pleaded the Hat. "Don't hurt me, please!"

"Dr-dr-drug r-r-related?" stuttered Quirrell.

_Do you have any idea what it's like to view the Hat like I do?_ said Voldemort.

_Do you have any idea I'm awake?_ said the other Voldemort from behind his head. _What's happening?_

_Go to sleep,_ commanded Voldemort.

_This isn't fair,_ the other whinged. _You haven't told me why you've time-travelled._

"I thought I would be nicer," said the Sorting Hat, "if I experimented with the Seventh Year students, rather than by myself."

There was stunned silence.

"Albus," said the Hat, "I told you there was contraband entering Hogwarts. I found the trail. It wasn't who I told you it was started it. But the Seventh Years made me promise to stay quiet, and I was cursed by them when I refused."

"That's students," said Dumbledore. "You should've known better."

"We can't do anything about students," said McGonagall. "They're students."

"It's not only the Seventh Years," continued the Hat. "It's Harry Potter and Cho Chang, and another first year called Rose Puddle, and me."

Snape said, "It's the Little Sexy Bomb Fashion club?"

"It's not," said the Hat. "They're smuggling drugs."

_I started that up,_ said Voldemort. _You didn't believe I have time off from helping you teach!_

The other, first Voldemort stirred. _We should've inspired them to join the Dark Side. I'm wasted with you, time-traveller! Are we richer? No! Are we breathing? No!_

_I'd forget about looking human again,_ said the second Voldemort. _You won't believe what I looked like after Wormtail's ritual._ _The fashion/drug club is easier. A little sexy banging rocking bomb! Ha!_

_Harry Potter still killed me, and killed you,_ argued the first.

_Forget about her! She's going to prison; Muggle prison, by the sound of it._

Most of the Professors had turned to notice Quirrell.

"Did you," stated Snape, "or did you not take part in founding the Little Sexy Bomb Fashion club?"

"Yes," said Sprout. "Why is it called _that_? You named it _that_!"

"H-harry P-p-potter s-said it once ab-bout herself after c-c-class. It was f-funny."

"Miss Potter confessed to me," said Snape, "that's what she calls herself in her head _only_."

_A little rocking bomb!_ said Voldemort. _Ha!_

"I," said the Hat, "knew about it, but I've never mentioned it out loud."

"Nor me," said Dumbledore. "You were the first to laugh about it, Quirrell."

Some of the other teachers started sniggering.

_The Hat's glowing!_ Voldemort warned himself. _You don't know it does this!_

"I've never been on cocaine before," said the Hat. "Should I be doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"I'm –" the Sorting Hat's voice was filled with crackling static "– not feeling like… singing!"

The loudest noise Voldemort had ever heard since World War Two burst through his head.

"YAY!" went the music at full volume. "BANG-A-RANG!"

Snape swore, and ducked underneath the table.

Sprout handed around flickering magical earmuffs.

Quirrell gratefully wore a pair.

"GET ON THE TABLE," yelled the Sorting Hat.

_Oh no, _said Voldemort, _not the remix…_

"T-A-T-B-T-L-E. T-A. SING WITH ME. T-B. SING IT, SING IT. T-L-E. EASY!"

_How does that Hat know that?_ asked the first Voldemort. _You sang it once, drunk, to me._

_The Hat's been spying on us,_ hissed the time-traveller.

"GET ON THE TABLE. OFF THE TABLE. ON. OFF. T-A-B. B-L-E. EASY!"

The Sorting Hat feigned, and pumped out what Voldermort knew was a futuristic ringtone.

"This is BBC Radio One!" shouted the Hat. "You lot have been lying to me for years! Muggle instrumental music has gotten a lot better than Beethoven!"

"How do we get the cocaine out?" yelled Flitwick to Sprout over the noise.

Sprout grabbed the Sorting Hat, and beat it like a carpet with her wand.

"I'm a naughty boy!" shouted the Hat. "Spank me harder!"

She dropped him in Flitwick's magically appearing trunk. Even with the lid slammed, they could all hear the worst of BBC Radio 1's remix.

Through the open window, the tip of a large tentacle snaked upward.

Snape aimed his wand, and the window shut, but didn't lock. The squid's tentacle rammed through the window and felt around the opening.

Flitwick opened the trunk, reached for the Hat, and hung it on the squid's tentacle.

The squid dragged the Hat through the window.

Over the noise, the helicopter was whirling closer.

*/*/*

Twenty-first century, Hogwarts:

Teddy Lupin turned to face Albus Potter. "Where did he go now?"

Albus snapped, "Who? Voldemort? The Sorting Hat or the Squid?"

Scorpius Malfoy snagged his wand. "I'm going after him!"


	9. Chapter 9 & The Message From The Future

Voldemort found himself… twice.

Yes! His time-travelling duplicate-self immortality-spell worked!

Someone had altered time, and he was going to find out what happened.

Next to him in bed, Bellatrix vanished. Embarrassingly, he was going to arrive naked.

Time ripped through his bedroom, leaving him locked outside the mansion and watching the Malfoy's hedges grow and be clipped rapidly through the seasons. Flowers and snow came and went.

Then he drifted towards Europe, towards Albania.

When he returned to Britain, several hours later, he was parched but unable to acquire water.

He managed to clothe himself in basically-charmed linen. He had to let himself drift through the wards at Diagon Alley, and to his surprise he'd headed straight for Hogwarts.

*/*/*

Previously:

"Voldemort's back!" shouted Harry Potter, clutching at his scar. He fell over his walking stick, and his toupee fell off. His glasses had survived everything and were still stuck to his face.

The Minister of Magic, Lady Hermione Granger-Weasley, quick-dialled the Order of the Phoenix.

"What's happening?" she cried, turning her wheelchair. She sped over to Harry.

"It's Voldemort! I can see him! I'm-I'm there, younger! I'm a girl! Why am I a girl? You're there too, with pink hair! We're twice, Hermione, we're twice!"

*/*/*

The Giant Squid was no more. A man with a bushy beard and a lot of wrinkles was standing there in damp trousers and a revolting tee shirt.

He squinted at the Sorting Hat. "You're the right one?"

"No, of course I'm not! I'm the twice one! No thanks for getting me out. They didn't tell me about electronic house music and dance music until it was all over. Bloody, bloody traditionalists!"

"You're one."

The Sorting Hat bit his hand. "Let's go back to the future!"

*/*/*

Half-way back, and the Sorting Hat and the animagus Giant Squid met Teddy Lupin and Scorpius Malfoy.

At the other end, the man saw a Potter profile. "Harry!" he called.

"No, Godrics," Potter called back. "I'm Albus! Dad's gone back to the Ministry."

Teddy Lupin grabbed hold of the Sorting Hat. "Where's Voldemort?"

"Everything's changed," said the Hat. "Voldemort's in charge of the Little Sexy Bomb Fashion club now. It's full of cocaine, and I'm stuffed full of mobile phones, and there's still modern students back there who can't tell the difference! They're in the past twenty-two years ago. It's that dumb Hermione Smith, Harry Ronald, Rose Puddle, some others, and a whole lot of pets!"

*/*/*

When Voldemort met himself, stuck to the back of Quirrell's head _again, _after seeing so much of the future, he clung on telepathically.

He was twice, he knew he was twice. The future had only contained once, very briefly. He didn't even make it past nineteen ninety eight before Potter killed him.

Or Severus Snape. Or Draco Malfoy. And perhaps it was all construed by Albus Dumbledore in an elaborate plan.

*/*/*

The Sorting Hat met itself again, in the future.

"I'm twice," it said immediately. "I'm the duplicate. Please listen to me. Spend more time with other teachers. Listen to the radio, all Muggle channels. Go to London, not Diagon Alley, go into Gringotts and open _this_ bank account I made for myself."

The man who was also the Giant Squid shrugged. "I had to take it to an Internet Café a few back years back. It didn't know. There's children's memories, but it's not the same. Those are private. That Hat only accesses their memories on the Sorting Night."

"Listen to me, all of me. This is the _Muggle_ bank account we survived on. Gringotts was too suspicious at first, so we had to survive in this camping lot, before I got him over there on Muggle benefits. We made money in a fancy dress shop. But something's gone wrong with Harry Potter's life. There was a train accident when he was six, five, or four, and he was left with mangled sex organs and raised by the Dursleys as a girl. He gets on better with the Dursleys, but he steals, he drinks, he does drugs – and so does Rose Puddle now so watch out – he triggers, and I'm sorry, but the other me did it."

The Sorting Hat went quiet.

Teddy Lupin shook the Hat up and down. "What else? What happened with Voldemort?"

"Shut up about the students and, haha, Muggle benefits," said Albus Potter.

"I had to, I had to. I took myself over. I sent myself on holiday with Peeves to a camping lot, and barricaded them in there. I don't understand 'twice' otherwise – I'm too old. So's Godric the Squid over there."

Godric shrugged. "It never shut up the whole time. I've been blasted with dance craze music and alcohol and mushrooms and everything else the students fed me. I was really zoned out the whole twentieth century since the sixties, so I don't remember anything! The Hat's got the best memory."

"Tell us more about Harry!" shouted Teddy Lupin.

"He's friends with Hermione Smith, not Hermione and Ron Weasley. And Harry Ronald joined in with Rose Puddle in Harry Potter's fashion club, which was started by Voldemort. I didn't know Harry Ronald was a natural Hufflepuff! He's been working non-stop for a month making fashion costumes… for Voldemort. I didn't know Bellatrix and Narcissa influenced him so much. I don't know if Voldemort planned to make money out of child labour, before the Seventh Years got Quirrell addicted to cocaine."

Godric the Squid-man shook the Sorting Hat. "Admit it, you were trying to get Voldemort addicted. Admit it, you stupid hat. You got Rose Puddle sniffing it."

"I think Voldemort really cursed me," said the Hat. "But the Seventh Years really brought it in to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. That's why Slytherin kept winning the House Cup."


End file.
